Psychosis
by Dragon Scales 13
Summary: By definition, psychosis is a mental disorder that warps the idea of reality. Could it be that even the greatest of heroes can break under pressure?


**PSYCHOSIS**

_A Fable Story_

Horror/Angst

_By definition, psychosis is a mental disorder that warps the idea of reality. Could it be that even the greatest of heroes can break under pressure?_

_Author Note: Time to take a dive to the darkside, then. This fic is a lightside to darkside story, so please, leave a review. It's common courtesy!_

_PSYCHOSIS_

Ever since I was little, I was always absorbed in the conflict of good and evil. The drama, the glory, the fame and power... It attracted me, a treasure unobtainable to us mere mortals, leaving me to stand at the sidelines and worship heroes, watching them fight and save us from immenient doom. The desire to join them was intoxicating, the urge to cull the evils of Albion and bring them to light.

I never gave up that dream, promising myself that one day, I too would join the ranks of the heroes before me, becoming loved and adored by all, and feared by enemies. Everyday I worked to that goal. Praying to Avo, excercising my loyalty, persisting in my studies and resisting the pressure of my peers while they damned themselves with unforgivable acts of dishonesty and conciet.

Most of all, I perservered in my dreams. I never let the image of me, tall and strong in polished bright armor, eyes the brightest of blue and hair like gold, ever leave me. Sometimes, I could hear Avo calling to me, invoking my name, asking me to defend his world from Skorm and his dark army, to bring the light of good into a world of evil.

I never turned him down. Faithfully, I slaughtered bandits and minions, killing them like the dogs they were, until I gradually faced the biggest threat to my sire.

Skorm.

He sneered at me, laughing, a horrifying sound to the most faithful of avatars.

"You dare rise against me? Fool."

With a cry, I strike, only to have my trusty sword and constant shield shattered, my beautiful armor destroyed, my health failing.

"You will not beat me, evil! I will bring the light to even your dark soul!"

The demon pressed forward, but I remained constant, defiant of the monster facing me. "I am the avatar of light! You will never win!"

Skorm grabbed my beaten body in a dark, shadow hand like the most vile of mists, "Pathetic. An avatar works both ways, mortal, and you are no different."

"You lie! You lie to me, demon!"

"Is that so? Ask you blessed Avo!" He swings hard at me, and I drift off into darkness before I wake up.

Time after time, I accept the quest, fighting for Avo against the dreaded Skorm.

And time and time again, I am defeated by the dark lord.

"Why Avo, can I not battle this foe? Please, send me a sign that I am truly your avatar!"

Time went on in my normal life, aging to a preteen and still remaining as pious as ever to the light god, still praying for a sign of his power.

Then, it came.

Bandits flooded my home, desecrating our shops, murdering my family, kidnapping my sister. And yet, I was still alive, and saved by a guild leader no less.

It was an omen from Avo himself, promising me the greatest dream of all, the dream of being a hero. I still missed my family, but I knew they were happy with the god above and I would see them too one day, if I live my life well.

Years went by in the Guild, training and learning the history of Albion, knowing the monsters I would also face in time. Eventually, I graduated the guild, passing with exceptional talent in swordsmanship, forever honing my skills. I left the home of my youth with a proud smile and the hope of greatness.

A few years after that, I have grown to an impressive height and strength, known and admired for eyes that were of the brightest blue, hair of pure gold. I was finally the mighty avatar that Avo wanted, the bringer of light.

Until I killed Twinblade. The bandit leader suffered and died, like the bandits from my dreams and someday Skorm himself. My own sister screamed and raged against me for my deed, saying that my fate was now written in stone as I killed all the dispicable bandits that populated the area.

"Avo," I cried to the heavens once more, "What must I do to appease you?" The very wind raged, coiling itself into a storm, "I have done everything you asked of me!"

"When the time is right," Avo consoled, the wind calming itself into a breeze, "You will have your chance."

Quests went by, one after the other, with me always taking the good side, saving lives and defending humanity. The time eventually came when Iearned from Maze Jack's treachery, the plans, and the power. Within an hour, I was facing the heathen in my legendary armor, just like my dreams from so long ago.

"I shall cleanse the land of your shadow," I cried, and drew my blade to attack him. "You will taint Albion no longer!"

With a roar, I attacked, leaving him no room to reply, the glistening glare of my blade sparking against his, staring into those cold, silent holes for eyes in his mask.

It was glorious. The villian sent armies of villians, as Skorm did, attepting to batter my defense with his petty tricks. But he was no god, and I was an avatar of good. There was no way he could defeat me.

The battle was finally won, and the legendary blade was mine.

"What will you do, brother? Take the sword of evil or toss its power away? What path will you take, brother?"

I raised the blade and stabbed it into the gorund as I knelt in prayer, my sister watching from a distance. "What would you have me do, Avo?"

The answer was silent, but I heard it clearly. "Kill her."

"Kill her? My own family," I exclaimed silently, "That would be evil!"

The god raged silently. "Have I not lead you this far into the light? Destroy her, and take the power to make Albion a safer world!"

I couldn't fight with Avo, his words rang oddly true in my weary soul. "I will obey." Theresea made no sound as I slew her, taking the stained blade and absorbing its wonderous power.

It was only then I truly looked back at my life and saw what I had wrought. I was living my life like a hero, doing the right thing, but somewhere along the line, I failed and fell from my place. The bandits I've mercilessly killed, the look of horror in their eyes as I stole their life, the disturbing happiness I felt from slaying Twinblade...

I wasn't Avo's avatar.

I was Skorm's!

With a cry of agony that shook the heavens, I tore at my hair, bloody hands grabbing at nothing, wildly trying to hold onto an illusion. My armor became as black as Skorm's eyes and my face became sallow and thin.

"Trickery! Decieved!"

"No, no, no... I did nothing but fufill your dreams, Hero. The choices were yours, not mine, and certainly not Avo's. You caused your own falling, not us."

I finally understood my dreams. I couldn't defeat Skorm because there was a seed of evil within me too. Pride, greed, prejudice, hate, power... Why couldn't I see it before?

"You were so absorbed in your fantasy you never looked at yourself with the same harshness you look to everyone else... You were an easy target, Avatar. You're special, but you're still human... Fool..."

I was finally broken. My dreams scattered with the draft blowing past my fully grown horns. "What will you have me do... Master?"

And now I stare into the mirior, my once blue eyes black and red, the aura about me terrifying and yet attractive and strong. I have changed Albion to my own ways, defeating all resistance with the mystical sword. Slaves scurry away at the sight of me, living in constant fear and jealousy of my power.

I have finally achieved greatness, I have achieved the unbelivable, and I regret nothing when I fight for my new lord.

I am Skorm's Avatar, and I will make certain you will never forget it.

...o.o Even by my standards, that was diabolically evil and disturbing... Yet, I enjoyed writing this. Please, by all means, let me know what you thought of it. I know its not really my bes- and its kinda shortt, but it isn't THAT bad! -


End file.
